


Lost Mysteries of the Ancients

by MulticoloredRose



Series: Into Darkness, Unafraid [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alaren Lavellan, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Friendships, Gen, Lavellan Backstory, POV Varric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 10:50:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16785469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MulticoloredRose/pseuds/MulticoloredRose
Summary: The Inquisitor's team gets a moment of rest in the fight to stop Corypheus. An attempt to learn more about a certain Inquisitor however leads to more questions than ever before.





	Lost Mysteries of the Ancients

**Author's Note:**

> Just another short in the Alaren Lavellan timeline. A few questions are brought up here which pertain to head canon changes of Dragon Age lore in certain cases.  
> Most of that lore with the Dalish clans as opposed to the games depiction of them and their civilization/culture/etc.  
> Enjoy!

**' _We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path.  
We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit.'_**

**_-Dragon Age Origins_ **

There are a lot of things that just don’t add up.

That much is blatantly obvious for someone who is actually looking, and despite most people’s assumptions – and what Varric has led them to believe – Varric is very good at looking. He’s had to be. No spymaster or storyteller worth their salt wouldn’t be a good watcher. Watching is just as important as talking and Varric has dedicated his life to cultivating those two skillsets.

However, with the current mystery at hand Varric knows that he’s not the only one who has noticed the charade. A lot of the Inquisitor’s inner circle have in their own ways and to varying degrees. Hell, _Cullen_ has noticed and the man has been so distracted by Corypheus and Samson that Varric wouldn’t have originally thought that he’d have it in him to pay attention to things that weren’t actively attacking them all with a sword.

The Iron Bull’s made a few comments about it when they’re walking around and handling issues and breaches that keep popping up all over Thedas. Overt comments that somehow tiptoe the borderline between subtle and not subtle at all, but Varric knows that’s the Qunari’s spy’s way. He likes to throw people off their game with the truth and see what he can reel in while they’re still off balance. It’s usually an effective strategy, but it hasn’t worked all that well for him when he turns it on the Inquisitor. The elf just seems to sidestep the comments with all the poise and ease that they’ve come to expect of him, and that Josephine secretly thanks the Maker that the Inquisitor has, whenever they try to pry deeper.

Leliana has also caught on, but that’s not surprising. It’s sort of her job to know everything going on and to know when there are pieces of the puzzle that aren’t fitting correctly long before anyone else realizes it too. She has her own way of doing things, leaning more towards softly spoken secrets and clandestine trades, but Varric’s overheard her asking questions to the Herald in an attempt to just go to the source to locate the missing link that she can’t seem to track down. Unfortunately, the questions she asks seem to only be half answers and skilled deflections that Varric knows impresses the spymaster as much as it frustrates her. Varric overheard once that she sent out her spies to gather what information they could from Clan Lavellan but they seemed to be in on the game that the Inquisitor is playing because they’ve been just as tight-lipped as the raven-haired elf and his ‘pre-Inquisitor’ days.

There’s a feeling that Varric has, a feeling that tells him that whatever this secret is – it’s something big. Huge even. One of those secrets that will upend everything that you thought you knew while you try to adjust to the new information that you’ve been given. After all, too much time and effort is going into the continued charade and even Alaren himself seems to err to the side of caution when it comes to potential slips. He’s careful not to say more than he’s ready to part with at any given time and that’s not by accident, it’s by obvious design. Varric has to admit that he’s doing a good job at the deflections, a pro who would make the Grand Game weep, but Varric also has to admit that he knows that the truth will eventually get out. The entire world is suddenly interested and curious about every single thing in the Inquisitor’s life, especially when it comes to things prior to the Conclave and when he got ‘Called by Andraste’ to save them, and when that many people are out for something – something tends to be found.

Heck, even _Solas_ has caught on to the subtle discrepancies and has shown himself to be curious about them, and Varric knows that the apostate mage himself has a few secrets of his own that he holds tightly to the chest but he can be pretty oblivious about anything else going on around him unless it directly affects him.

Or maybe it’s that he only cares if it directly affects him or the Inquisitor. The older, and much stranger, elf has taken quite the shine to the young Herald over these last few months since they all got thrown in together, and the feeling is certainly mutual with how Alaren has sought out the other elf every other chance he gets. He seems to be endlessly curious about Solas’s studies or about the Fade and is always ready to debate or get into discussions regarding the two, and it’s always entertaining to see Chuckles preen at the questions being thrown at him and at the debates being presented.

Varric has noticed it there though, it’s actually one of the first things that started drawing Varric’s attention to ‘it’. The first was the lack of markings on the elf’s face, the second was his stance and debates on magic itself. He noticed it in how sometimes Solas would stop in the middle of a conversation between the two of them and how the strangest look would cross his face as he stared at the young Inquisitor-to-be like he was a puzzle that Solas didn’t know how to solve.

A rare opportunity eventually rises at camp, once they’ve finished setting up and have started digging into dinner. The Inquisitor is relaxed and smiling at Dorian who is practically glowing under the attention from his obvious crush – truly, it’s so obvious that it’s borderline sad. It’s actually worse than the time when Hawke was still mooning after Anders and Blondie couldn’t see it past Justice before the two of them finally got their crap together. There are a lot of people who don’t like the favor, the attention or the trust that the Inquisitor gives to the Tevinter necromancer, thinking that somehow Dorian has managed to pull the wool over the young elf’s eyes but Varric knows that whatever happened in that ‘time travel to the horrible future’ situation has created a bond between the two mages that a little gossip and naysaying isn’t going to break.

The mood around the campfire is completely at ease, and there are no outsiders here right now to overhear anything that the Inquisitor might say and that’s a rarity since they usually stay in Inquisition camps with other Inquisition scouts and soldiers. It means that there’s an opportunity for a small amount of truth to maybe be given.

“Hey Inquisitor?” Varric asks after a little while and Alaren looks over at him. “Tell us something about yourself.” Varric figures the direct approach might be best here.

“Something about myself?” Alaren repeats before he tilts his head a little. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, anything. Any funny childhood stories? Trouble that you’ve gotten yourself into that you’re completely proud of and would do it again in a heartbeat?”

“Oh.” Alaren says before he gets a thoughtful look. “I’m not really sure what to say. I’ll admit that I wasn’t really a rambunctious child, and as such I didn’t really get into a lot of trouble as you say.”

“No?” Varric asks. “Nothing? Not one tale?”

“Not that I can think of at present.” Alaren replies. “I was rather bookish, and for the most part I didn’t really test out the rules like other children might have.” He answers and Varric smiles.

“Ah, ‘for the most part’. That means that there were times when you did. Any stories there?”

“I’m sorry, I’m at a loss.” Alaren says carefully. “I’m not pulling to the surface any story that would interest you, I’m afraid I was a rather quiet child.”

“No? You?” Dorian says with playful sarcasm winding through his voice. “I would never have guessed.” He pokes and Alaren gives him a small, amused smile before he takes a bite of his food.

“There had to have been _something_. I doubt your whole life before the Conclave was just books and Aravels and boredom.” Varric presses. “How am I supposed to pen up the story of the Inquisitor without some fun anecdotes or tales from before all this?” He asks and Alaren takes another bite, chewing it slowly as his eyes seem to take in Varric like he knows what Varric is really doing and what he’s really after.

“There really isn’t much to say.” He replies after a pause.

“There has to be something. What did you like to do before you came here?” Varric asks.

“I read a lot?” Alaren replies. “Like I said before, I was rather bookish.”

“Did your clan trade for a lot of books?” Vivienne asks, picking at some lint or something on her dress. “It would have been uncommon for you to have had a decent selection to choose from otherwise. Odd though, I’ve heard the Dalish don’t put a lot of stock into things like that.”

“We had our fair share of reading material.” Alaren replies easily, in that usual calm tone he always takes with the Grand Enchanter whenever she makes assumptions about elvhen culture and history.

“That’s it though?” Varric cuts back in, leading the conversation back to the topic at hand. “No shenanigans with friends?”

“I kept to myself mostly.” Alaren says after a moment, and there’s something there but he doesn’t give any reasons. “I didn’t have many ‘friends’ to speak of before I came here.” The gentle statement of friendship certainly does wonders around the fire pit.

“Well…tell me something, anything. Something unique to you.” Varric asks and he puts a little bit of pleading into his voice and Alaren seems to relent as he stirs around the food in his bowl.

“Very well, if you will not be deterred from this train of inquiry.” Alaren starts and Varric notices how everyone in the Inquisitor’s inner circle seems to lean forward, the promise of information too much for them to ignore. “A few years ago, there was a falcon who broke her wing.” He says. “I found her by the banks and I took her to a healer. She helped me treat her and get her back into flying shape.” The Inquisitor gets a soft smile. “We went to release her once the wing had mended, but she chose to stick around. Probably all of the treats that my mother and I were always sneaking her…but she was my best friend if I were to be honest. I had all my adventures with her before I left.”

“Where is she now?” Solas asks and Alaren shrugs.

“She had to stay behind when I left. I couldn’t take her with me, so I left her with my parents. As I mentioned, she was just as fond of my mother as she was of me.”

“A pet falcon huh? Excellent. What was her name?” Varric asks.

“Lossë.” Alaren replies easily. “I called her Lossë.”

“Lossë? Is that elvhen for something?” Dorian asks and Alaren nods before he seems to think about it. “What does it mean?” Dorian asks and Varric doesn’t miss how Solas frowns slightly at the agreement of the nature of the word and the Inquisitor blushes a little.

“Oh…it means ‘white’ I guess. Or ‘snowy white’ if I were to get technical.” He says before he gives Dorian an embarrassed look. “…she’s white if you can’t guess.”

“Oh no, you’d be one of those children who would name their dog ‘spot’ aren’t you?” Dorian chuckles and Alaren dips his head a little.

“Or perhaps ‘Scout’ or ‘Buddy’.” Varric adds on with a smile of his own. “Although, don’t think I didn’t hear you when you said ‘adventures.” There’s a hilarious moment where Alaren pauses at the throwback to his own words and he looks a little like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar for a brief second before its hidden away again. “What kinds of ‘adventures’?”

“…the normal kind I guess?” Alaren replies, flushing slightly again and taking a bite of his food to stall having to say anything.

“I would personally love to hear about one of these ‘adventures.” Dorian says and Varric inwardly cheers as Alaren glances up at the other mage. “I can only imagine a tinier you running around causing havoc.”

“I didn’t really cause havoc…” Alaren tells him. “I just…I mean sometimes I would just…” He takes a moment and seems to try to think about how to say whatever he’s going to say next and somehow manage to keep his dignity intact. “I read a lot.” He repeats and Dorian nods. “…and sometimes I’d pretend that I was one of the characters in the book.” He finishes after a moment. “So, not so much real adventures as imagined ones.”

“I used to do the same thing.” Dorian says with a small smile. “What was your favorite to act out?”

“Mystery stories, I guess? Or perhaps adventure ones. Fictional things, I was never very fond of actual historical accounts, especially where elves were involved. Things always turned out so…terrible.”

“Terrible is a kind way of putting it.” Solas interjects and Alaren gives him a look like he agrees wholeheartedly with the other elf. The group falls into silence for a while and Varric decides that he’s going to go for broken and ask a question that has been bothering all of them. The question probably at the core of the discrepancies with the Inquisitor. He’s not really expecting an answer, he’s impressed already with the small – miniscule – glimpse into Alaren’s pre-Inquisitor days that he’s already gotten tonight, but he figures he’ll try anyways.

“I do have one question.” He says. “If you’d be okay answering it. I get that it might be personal or just none of my business…I’ve just been really curious about it.”

“I don’t promise to answer, but you are free to ask my friend.” Alaren tells him.

“So…you’re Dalish right?”

“I’m descended from the elves who refused to be cowed at the Dales, yes.” Alaren replies to that and Varric nods.

“Well I just mean…I guess I’m used to a certain… I guess we’ve all gotten used to the Dalish having a certain ‘look’.” Varric says as he glances tellingly over Alaren’s face and the elf nods.

“You’re asking about the Vallaslin, or I guess in this case the lack of one?” Alaren clarifies and Varric nods.

“I guess I’m curious as to why you don’t have it. Isn’t it a kind of coming of age thing? You’re more than old enough to have it, from what I know of Dalish culture. Although I will admit that I really only have third hand accounts and Merrill to go off of though, so I might be a little off.”

“No, I wouldn’t say you’re off.” Alaren says. “I know that many of the Dalish clans tend to use the Vallaslin as a connection to a time long past. As a kind of…remembrance and visual declaration as it were. But where I’m from, we don’t mark ourselves with it.”

“Clan Lavellan doesn’t do Vallaslin?” Solas asks and Alaren gets a complicated look for a brief second before it smoothes away. Like he suddenly regrets answering Varric’s inquiry and isn’t comfortable with the direction that the conversation has gone.

“No. Clan Lavellan does practice the blood writing rite.” He says carefully. “But I didn’t arrive at the clan until after I was already an adult. There was little pressure to get one at that point, even so I did not want one so they didn’t press the issue much.”

“Wait. You’re not from Clan Lavellan?” Dorian asks. “We keep calling you by that name, are we wrong?”

“Not at all.” Alaren states. “I don’t mind using the name and the Keeper has allowed for me to do so. I’ve been accepted into Clan Lavellan as a full clan member so no harm has been done. But no, I was not born amongst the Lavellan clan.”

It’s the biggest piece of information that they’ve ever gotten to date. Is that why Clan Lavellan is so tight lipped? Because they don’t actually _know_ where the Inquisitor comes from? Vivienne adjusts herself on her pillow and looks at him.

“Were you sent to train with the Keeper then? As their first or second?” She asks and Alaren takes a moment before he answers.

“No. I was already fully trained by the time I arrived.”

“What brought you to them then?” She asks.

“It is rather...personal.” Alaren responds eventually. “I would rather not discuss it.”

“Oh dear, did something happen to your clan?” Vivienne pushes and Alaren shakes his head.

“No, nothing like that.” He replies before he seems to adjust himself slightly and Varric sees his openness to their inquiries closing quickly.

“That’s cool, we won’t push.” He cuts in quickly, cutting off the other mage. “But you didn’t want them? Aren’t they a homage to your gods?”

“…I wasn’t raised following the elvhen gods.” Alaren admits, surprising everyone at the campfire. “So as you can imagine, it would not make a lot of sense to tattoo a praise to them on my face.”

“You don’t follow the elvhen gods?” Solas asks, repeating the words that everyone is thinking and Alaren shakes his head.

“Not at all.”

“And that was your entire clan before Lavellan?” Solas asks and Alaren looks like he holds in a sigh.

“Correct, where I’m from originally we do not worship the elvhen gods or the Maker.”

“Who do you worship then?” Cassandra asks, completely curious. “You’ve mentioned before that you don’t believe in the Maker and I just assumed you followed the Dalish gods.”

“I don’t worship anything.” Alaren tells her and she stares at him like he’s just composed an ode to Corypheus.

“How is that even possible?” She asks and he shrugs lightly.

“I was raised to question the world around me and not to just attribute things that I don’t understand to a deity’s interference.” He answers her. “As such, we do not do practices like the Vallaslin.”

“…it’s just so…strange to hear that.” Solas says slowly, looking completely unmoored. “To not believe in the elvhen gods for a Dalish just sounds so…odd. It’s unlike everything that I’ve come to know of them.”

“I’d imagine.” Alaren says with a small smile sent in the older elf’s direction. “But not all Dalish are the same. It’s been a long time since the Exalted March and the Betrayal of the Dales, over seven hundred years. A lot can happen in that time, a lot of branching out. A lot of change, but I can see how the assumption could easily be made.” They fall into silence for a while before the Seeker tries to restart the conversation again.

“You said that you were raised to ‘question the world’?” She asks and Alaren nods. “What does that mean? What does that even look like?”

“I guess you could say that we’re not big believers in stories passed down through the ages that tell us why things happen, how to live or what to do.” He gets a small, almost private smile. “You might say we’re actively distrustful of them actually.”

“What do you mean?” Solas asks and Alaren takes a moment. He looks at each of them and seems to come to some kind of determination.

“If you truly wish to know, I will tell you, but then I would like for us to move on to other topics rather than my upbringing or childhood.” Alaren says to them and he gets a few nods at that. “Very well then. I guess the simplest way to explain it would be to explain an old lesson that we all learn. It’s portrayed as a game, but it’s so much more than that.” He adjusts his sitting posture slightly and holds out the leftover roll on his plate to the Iron Bull who takes it happily. “Basically, it works like this, you’re to come up with a story. It can be about anything, there are no wrong starts or bad stories in this lesson.”

“What was your story?” Dorian asks and Alaren chuckles.

“Mine was about a silver halla that could fly and whose job it was to hang the stories of the heroes of old up in the night sky.” He says with an almost wistful tone to his voice. “But you come up with a story and you write it down. As simple as that, you write it down in its entirety before you hand the written copy off to the teacher for safekeeping. After that, the next half is that you have to spread your story as much as you can. You go around for weeks upon weeks and you tell it to everyone, but the catch is that you can’t look at what you wrote down. You can only tell it orally. At the same time all of the other students tell you theirs and you tell them yours. It’s great fun and as I said it goes on for some time.”

“Okay?” Cassandra presses, a confused look on her face like she doesn’t fully see how this is answering her question.

“Well, after the allotted time passes, we’re called to write down the story again. Not just ours, but the others we’ve heard as well and what we remember about them. Then we all get together and the teacher hands us back our original tales and we all get to see what’s happened.” Alaren looks up at her. “Do you know what we learn? We get to see first-hand that no story is identical to the original tale. Some aren’t even slightly similar. Through time and multiple retellings and interacting with other storytellers with similar themes the stories always grow. They lose parts of themselves and gain new parts that were never part of the original. A lot of times parts of other students’ stories end up in yours and anyone writing down someone else’s story never manages _half_ of what the original tale was trying to get across.”

“What’s the point of that?” Sera asks and Alaren glances towards her.

“The point is that the lesson is finished with a lesson on history and religion itself. How much of it has been rewritten by those who survived over those they destroyed? How much is lost in retellings and how much of it even resembles what actually took place? There are many more lessons like this, but it’s the first where we learn to be inherently skeptical of ‘historical accounts’ written down after the event or by an outsider with an obvious agenda, and it’s also one of the first lessons that go on to show us to place no weight in the stories of gods or prophets. After all, we’ve seen firsthand how easily a story gets undone in a few months, how much of it can be undone in a thousand or so years?”

“That’s…an interesting way to look at it.” Solas says and Alaren shrugs.

“Yes well, the Dalish have lost a lot of history ourselves and have watched it be rewritten and repurposed as others have seen fit. So as such, that’s what we’re taught. It’s why I don’t believe in the Maker or in Dalish gods or in the claims of Corypheus and the Black or Golden City.”

“But Corypheus is here now. He stood right in front of you.” Cassandra states. “How can you not believe when faced with the truth?”

“What ‘truth’ is that?” Alaren asks her curiously. “I acknowledge that Corypheus exists, and that he seeks to find a way to give himself the power to rule this world. I acknowledge that Corypheus is a mage of unknown age and power. These are the only ‘truths’ I see. I acknowledge what I see and what I have experienced, I do not put stock in ‘claims’.”

“But he has stated first hand that he has seen the seat of the Maker.” Cassandra presses and Alaren nods slightly.

“I acknowledge what he _claims_.” He repeats gently. “But there is no proof of that. If we went by ‘claims’ as proof then I would be the Herald of Andraste even though we all know that I am most certainly not. But there are those who have seen me close the breaches and there are those who add a kind of divine intervention to my survival after the battle with Corypheus. That does not make it true even though some claim it to be so. The claim was at one point that this mark was given to me by Andraste, the truth is that it’s a spell backfire and it has nothing to do with any religious figures. Claims are not always what they seem when people are desperate to find an explanation and are willing to accept anything given to them for it. Even less so when someone else can come in and use the belief to their own advantage.”

“What do you mean?” Cassandra asks and Alaren tilts his head a little.

“Did not you and Leliana allow the claim that I was heaven sent by Andraste to save the world at one point? You admit to allowing the information to continue because it was useful to you and to the newly created Inquisition as a whole. Yet, we all knew that there was no proof of any of that and the only reason to allow it to continue was for the benefits we got from it.” Alaren replies.

“But he returned from the Fade. This you cannot deny.” Cassandra presses and he nods.

“And so did I, so it is possible for one to do even if we’re not a hundred percent sure how it has been accomplished. I would not say with absolute certainty that Corypheus did not emerge from the Fade at some point in time since I know that the spell which allowed me to do it came from him.”

“That’s not what I meant. You said you don’t believe in third hand accounts or whatever. He saw it with his own eyes.”

“And he has no one to vouch for it.” Alaren says softly. “Also, the ‘returning from the Fade’ part does not help his account. We know so little about the Fade. About its origins or its limits or its boundaries, let alone what is inside it or beyond it.” Alaren states. “But any mage who has been there knows that the Fade is notorious for illusions and misdirection’s. Is not your Chantry’s ‘Harrowing’ proof of that? Perhaps Corypheus truly believes that he saw the seat of the Maker, but that does not mean that he actually saw it.”

“But we know that the first magisters brought on the Blight because they stormed the Golden City.” Cassandra says and Alaren glances at her, taking a moment before continuing with a calm yet careful tone.

“That is what the Andrastrian Chantry teaches, yes.” He says diplomatically.

“What does that mean?” The Seeker presses.

“It just means that if you were to ask others who have not been raised with the Chantry’s teachings, that might not be what they would say. I believe the dwarves have their own explanations and history, as well as the Dalish, the Qunari and Tevinter even has its own subtle shifts. Each has ‘history’ to back it up and each ‘knows’ it to be true. But how do you know that yours is the one that is correct? Was it not written down centuries later?” Alaren immediately cuts himself off and holds up a hand. “Please forgive me Cassandra. I should not have said anything, I don’t wish to start a debate with you here on this subject.” Cassandra looks like she wants to argue but she relents thankfully. “Thank you.” He tells her. “Let us discuss something more pressing, the Venatori perhaps? Or any other plans associated with stopping Corypheus?”

They all nod and start throwing up little pieces of information or battle strategies, and Varric can’t help but watch the Inquisitor for the rest of the time that they speak. There’s a small piece of him that feels like the answers they got have only opened up more questions and it’s not a feeling that’s new to him but it is certainly one that he dislikes. 

He wonders a little what he would pen out right now if he were hard pressed to. He knows so little about the Inquisitor and the small glimpses that Alaren has given them tonight shows him that he knows even less than he thought. It’s an interesting puzzle and Varric wonders how much longer before it all starts to come together in such a way that they can finally all see the finished picture it will provide.


End file.
